


Can You Help Me?

by beccastanz



Series: A Family Affair [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Student/Teacher, Ambiguous/Open Ending, And then there was that one awkward dinner..., Biting, Bratty Rey (Star Wars), Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominant Ben Solo, Dominant Kylo Ren, Established Relationship, Exhibitionism, F/M, Former Professor Han Solo, Going to Hell, Incest, Light Dom/sub, Multiple Orgasms, Nipple Play, No Condom, No Pregnancy, Outdoor Sex, Possessive Behavior, Possessive Ben Solo, Praise Kink, Professor Ben Solo, Pseudo-Incest, Public Sex, Rey was never Ben’s student, Semi-Public Sex, Submissive Rey (Star Wars), Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, Woman on Top, assume Rey is on birth control, big dick ben, but it was in the past and they never had sex, dad kink???, family dynamics are wild, former student Rey, im not sure if this counts as incest but Han watches ben and rey have sex, rey just had a big ol crush and Ben railed her in front of him, so do with that what you will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:47:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29841051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beccastanz/pseuds/beccastanz
Summary: “You were late.”His little huff and the twitch in his jaw draw out a Pavlovian response, whimper caught in her throat and she descends further and further into trouble.“Is that it, sweetheart? Or was that just an excuse to get his hands on you?”
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Rey/Han Solo
Series: A Family Affair [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1945768
Comments: 64
Kudos: 230





	Can You Help Me?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [madsaialik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsaialik/gifts).



> We’re back with another installment of complete sin!!! If you’re new to this series, welcome! Feel free to read Parts 1 and 2, but it’s not required since this is basically just...porn.
> 
> Happy very very very late birthday, Mads <3
> 
> PLEASE MIND THE TAGS, FRIENDS!
> 
> Moodboard by [Lala](https://twitter.com/ate_lala_?s=21).  
> Art by [Catmintandthyme](https://twitter.com/catmintandthyme?s=21).

As Rey strolls into Han’s backyard, she feels a sense of peace, summer sun casting a serene warmth over the expanse of the pool deck. 

She’s treated herself to a Friday off from work to take advantage of her access to a pool, and, more importantly, a lounge chair to work on her tan.

Han is already seated in one of the chairs, sun hat and T-shirt paired with his swim shorts.

She tries to ignore the very small part of her that’s disappointed he’s not shirtless; after all, in just a few short months, he will well and truly be her family. 

Instead, she gives a short wave, setting her bag on the concrete.

“Thanks for letting us come over, Han!”

She’s only just gotten used to calling him Han instead of Professor, and soon she’ll probably just start calling him Dad. She ignores the shudder that passes through her at the thought, doesn’t think about that dinner so many months ago and how he knows how she tastes now—

“Of course, dear.” She likes how _dear_ sounds from him. Only he calls her that. It sounds old fashioned, in the absolute best way. “It would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

She nods in agreement, and pretends her flush is just from the heat. 

“I thought Ben would be here by now,” she states as she reaches for the hem of her cover-up, pulling it over her head in a single movement.

Both of them are wearing sunglasses, but she could swear Han’s eyes move to bore a hole into her chest. 

Her chest that might perhaps be barely covered by a string bikini.

Maybe it’s a size too small, but it was on sale and yellow and she loved it too much to pass up. The illusion of cleavage is just an added bonus.

He clears his throat before replying. “Probably got kept after class by an eager student, you know the type.” She can practically hear the wink in his voice, if not see it.

“Hopefully not _too_ eager,” she replies, voice devoid of jealousy. If there’s one thing she knows for certain, it’s that Ben has eyes for her and her alone. She can take the barbs in stride with the security of his amorous affection, clear in every moment they spend together.

Even when he’s using her, making her into a babbling, desperate mess, covering her in his cum, fucking her throat and telling her to _be good for Daddy, sweetheart,_ she knows he loves her. _Especially_ then.

The added weight on her left ring finger is simply an added bonus, easily recognizable to the rest of the world.

And later this year, a thin band will join it, and her Daddy will be her husband.

Every time she remembers, the thrill makes her blood run hot. 

But Ben is still noticeably absent from the yard, and she’d like to be able to lay on her stomach in the lounge chair, perhaps take a leisurely nap in the sun. She managed to spread sunscreen over almost every part of her before she arrived, except—

“Han?”

She holds up the bottle and gives it a small shake.

“Can you help me?”

“Uh,” he stutters, pausing to scratch at his beard. “Sure, dear.”

She moves to the lounge chair and covers it in a towel before laying on her stomach, baring her back to Han.

“Thanks so much!” Ben would be so upset if she burned, so caring and thoughtful and in awe of the softness of her skin, trailing his fingers over the expanse of her back every morning, delicately rousing her from sleep. Well, sometimes delicately, and sometimes as a precursor for fucking her deep into the mattress as the morning light spills into their bedroom.

She hears Han squeeze the lotion into his hand. Surely since she’s on her stomach, it would be fine to just—

The distinct sound of a throat clearing hits her ears as she pulls the straps across her back and neck loose.

“Don’t want any tan lines!”

“Of course, dear.” His voice sounds more strained than usual, but she chalks it up to the time in the sun. Surely they’ve all moved past this little _thing—_

His hands press into her back, the feeling far more delicious than it has any right to be.

The moan is out before she can stifle it.

He freezes, just for a moment, before the pressure resumes.

“You’re too young to be having back pain, kid.”

But he doesn’t stop spreading lotion over the bare expanse of her flesh with the perfect amount of pressure.

“It must be the— _oh—_ new job, I’m sitting at my desk and— _fuck—”_

The Solo smirk has its own resonating frequency, and she’s sure she can hear it hovering above her even if she can’t see it.

He chuckles before moving lower, thumbs pressing hard enough that she actually feels something pop into place.

She tries to muffle her yelp turned whimper into the towel beneath her head with minimal success.

“There you go, dear. That feel better?”

“Feels good,” she mumbles into the towel. “I mean, better, yes, it feels bet—”

He presses another spot, and she moans so loudly that the sound of the gate swinging open barely registers in her mind.

However, the growled _Rey_ that travels across the pool deck is unmistakable.

_Fuck._

Logically, she knows she hasn’t done anything wrong, but guilt still lances into her, hot and distracting. 

So distracting, in fact, that she scrambles up to greet him in an attempt to soothe.

Entirely forgetting that the straps of her bikini top are no longer tied.

“Da—Ben—oh _shit—”_

Han chuckles from above her as she immediately slams her torso back down against the lounge chair, an audible _smack_ as her chest collides with the slats, tits seeking out the measly yellow triangles of fabric beneath her.

And she casually, super casually, not at all suspiciously reaches to tie the top around her back and neck again, turning her head to face Ben.

“Hey babe!” She cringes internally at the unfamiliar endearment, nearly shoves her head back in the towel before resuming her attempt at placation. “Da—I mean Han—” _curse her stupid puddle of a brain, curse Han’s hands for rendering her entirely incoherent—_ “Han was just helping me get my back. Don’t wanna burn!”

She finally succeeds in tying the straps, immediately launching up to greet him properly, crossing the pool deck in several shaky strides to wrap her arms around his deliciously bare torso and press a kiss to one of his heaving pecs. When she finally chances a glance upward, his expression makes her shudder for more reasons than one.

She doesn’t notice Han has gotten closer until Ben lets go of her with one hand to snatch the sunscreen bottle from his father, spinning her around to face him with a protective hand over her chest.

“I’ll take it from here, Dad.”

_Oh fuck._

Her knees almost give out—she would have fallen were it not for Ben’s tight grip around her.

His voice is pure sin disguising barely contained rage.

And she’s maybe possibly getting wet.

_Or was she already?_

Ben presses the bottle into her hand, and it’s a testament to muscle memory of the grip he’s trained into her that she doesn’t immediately drop it.

Han chuckles again, and she feels Ben’s pinky slip its way under the string of her bikini bottoms.

Yup, she’s wet.

“Okay, kid,” and she feels Ben’s arm tighten even further at the detested nickname, and _fuck_ she knows she’s in trouble and she should probably care but all she wants is for his hand to migrate to where she’s dripping hot. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

“You don’t have to leave!”

Wow. So her instinct for self-preservation is just...gone.

But Han makes his way to the screen door in spite of her offer, casually tossing kindling onto the fire over his shoulder.

“I’d rather not be privy to a lover’s quarrel.”

_Oh god, are they that obvious?_

“Make sure I didn’t miss a spot, Benny!”

Han closes the screen door with a click, and suddenly she’s spun to face Ben, a demanding hand under her chin, forcing her to bear the brunt of his heavy gaze.

“Care to explain?”

And she decides to push her luck just a bit further.

“You were late.”

His little huff and the twitch in his jaw draw out a Pavlovian response, whimper caught in her throat and she descends further and further into trouble.

“Is that it, sweetheart? Or was that just an excuse to get his hands on you?”

The blush on her skin is absolutely not from the sun.

She should probably reel him in with a bit of placation, a quiet afternoon in the perfect summer air within reach.

“I just didn’t wanna burn, Daddy.” She lays it on a little thick, doe eyes and snuggling into his chest with a small _harumph_. “Don’t you like being able to touch me?” A flutter of her lashes, and she can feel the telltale growth of his bulge beneath his swim shorts against her stomach as she grabs his wrist, guiding his obscenely large hand to trail over the bare skin of her back.

She doesn’t register that he’s swung a bit too far in the opposite direction of anger before it’s too late.

“Well, I should probably make sure that _Dad_ was thorough, huh sweetheart?”

And before she knows it, she’s being hoisted by the ass to wrap herself around his torso, hands scrambling for purchase on his shoulders as he guides them to her lounge chair.

When he sits with both feet on one side of the chaise, her thighs naturally fall to straddle his torso. He has nothing holding up his back but for his own strength, and she is instantly reminded of the small puddle of wetness between her legs that has nothing to do with the pool.

He grabs the sunscreen bottle that she forgot she was holding, forcing her to balance on his thighs with her hands behind her back, her chest heaving directly in his face as he squeezes out a bit of lotion.

“D-don’t you need lotion too?” It’s a last ditch attempt to stave off what’s coming, even if, on some level, she knows that she wants it, tension simmering in the warm summer air.

“Already done, sweetheart. This is about _you.”_

She will never tire of the tinge of menace in his voice when he gets like this, a little mean, and a _lot_ possessive.

Her cunt clenches, bereft. 

He rubs the lotion between his hands, then grips her arms, the span of his palms and fingers neatly encircling both of her limbs on each side. Despite his attempts to warm it, the sticky substance still brings forth a wince from her at the temperature, and he tuts in mock sympathy.

“Cold?” He rubs his hands up and down her arms, coaxing the white to soak into her skin.

Oh, that grin. Wicked and colored with promise.

But she can’t help refuting him at every turn.

“No.”

“No, what?”

Any pretense disappears at his question. There’s no doubt of what is to come.

“No, Daddy.”

And his grin turns playful as he continues to anchor her in his lap, cunt mere millimeters away from what she surmises with a glance is a steadily hardening cock.

“Are you sure, sweetheart?”

He glances down at her breasts, still barely contained by yellow triangles, now tented by the peaks of her nipples.

“I’m not cold,” she insists, even as her body betrays her.

“Hmm,” he muses, quiet contemplation at odds with his iron grip. “Then this must be from something else.”

And then he leans forward and bites at her right nipple with no warning, teeth indenting fabric.

She cries out so loudly she’s sure the neighbors will hear it, even if the houses are widely spaced.

“Ben—”

“No,” he growls into her breast before giving the same treatment to the other.

“Oh—oh fuck, Daddy!” she cries, a slight attempt to keep her volume down ineffectual as his bite turns to nibbles, nibbles to sucks, gathering the bikini and her breast into his mouth all at once.

His hands resume their movements up and down her arms, warmth and heat spreading over her entire body as he renders her an incoherent needy mess like only he can.

He finds a spot with his mouth that has her throwing her head back instead of forward, and it’s then that she realizes her perfect view of the screen door, the one Han escaped through just minutes ago. Or was it seconds? Or hours? She loses track of time as Be— _Daddy_ decides to catalogue every noise she can make just from him teasing her tits through her bikini top.

Han isn’t there.

She tries not to let her disappointment show, which is easy when all she can think about is getting absolutely stuffed to the brim with cock.

“Daddy, please—please, I need—” she hardly recognizes herself, twisting in the lap of her fiancé as she grinds against him, now finally making contact with his fully hard erection through their respective swimsuits.

He detaches himself from her breast just long enough to tease her.

“You _need?_ What do you need, sweetheart? You need Daddy’s cock?”

She lets out a small _mmhmm,_ but apparently he’s not done torturing her yet.

He uses his teeth to yank the cup of her bikini to the side, exposing her whole breast to the air before sucking the entire thing into his mouth.

“Oh _fuck,_ Daddy, oh my god,” she proclaims, surely soaked through her bottoms by now as she begins a messy rhythm of thrusts against his lap, eager like he likes. “Daddy, your mouth,” and then he wraps his arms around her back before pulling out her other breast to make that one wet and red, too.

And then she looks up again, over his shoulder.

And Han is there, sipping a cup of coffee, bemused smirk visible even from across the deck.

Her breath catches, but Ben doesn’t seem to notice—not with a mouthful of tit and an armful of ass.

“D—Daddy—” she stutters, eyes still locked with Han’s. Oh god, he can probably _hear_ her, could probably hear every little whimper and moan she’s been making this entire time through the thin mesh of the door.

“Please.” She doesn’t truly know what she’s begging for, but Ben knows. He always knows.

“You feeling empty, sweetheart?” She nods furiously, breaking away from Han to look down at Ben, her Daddy, the man she’s going to marry.

She loves him. But she also loves...this.

And that just might be okay.

The weight of Han’s gaze that she knows is on her somehow gets her even more wet, a sticky mess all over her thighs and Ben’s swimsuit when she looks down to assess the damage.

He holds her steady with one arm, freeing his cock with the other, careful not to touch it with his sunscreen soaked hand.

Even now, in the midst of their tryst, his care and attention to detail make her melt.

And then—

“Sit on it, sweetheart.” He undoes the tie of her suit at one side, places his hands on the lounge chair, and waits.

Her eyes flicker to the house briefly, confirming what she already knows. Han is still there, and fully intends to watch her ride his son’s cock.

But Ben usually prepares her first, fingers or his tongue or both wringing out an orgasm or two (or, on one memorable night, eleven) before fucking her. Even now, it’s an effort to get him inside of her. With no prep—

He reads her mind.

“Just take it nice and slow, sweetheart,” he reassures calmly. Then, gaze darkened again, “Daddy’s waiting.”

The weight of extra eyes makes her wetter than ever, and she knows she can do this.

At least it will be torturous for them both.

She pulls the fabric of her bottoms to the side easily after he undid one of the bows. One hand reaches for his shoulders, an iron grip as she lifts herself above his leaking cock, hard and jutting against his stomach before she guides it to her dripping entrance, mercilessly teased but not yet breached.

The head slips in, her thighs trembling with the effort to stay up and not just fall down and take him in all at once.

She whimpers, wraps both arms around his back, tucks her head into the crook of his shoulder.

“Good girl,” he whispers into her coconut-scented locks. “So good, you can take more now, can’t you?”

She nods, rests her chin on his collarbone as she works her hips down another inch. Han takes a sip of his coffee. She sees his hand move against the front of his swim shorts. She drops another inch.

“Fuck, sweetheart, that’s it.”

The stretch is so, so fucking good, even if it’s taking all her strength to take it slow. 

“Feels good, Daddy,” she moans, pressing her lips to his neck, tasting salt and sunscreen and summer.

He makes a noise that sounds something like agreement as she sneaks another peek at Han, still so casual with his coffee and his cock, only the coffee in view.

She tries a new tactic, lifting her ass until only the head is inside of her before thrusting back down, aided by her own arousal and gravity to take even more of him inside of her.

“Fuck, _yes,”_ he hisses, overcome, hands moving back to her hips. “You can take the whole thing now, can’t you sweetheart? Hmm? Tell me.” He sounds barely composed, like he’s moments away from shoving her down himself. 

“Yes, Daddy, give it—” _to me_ goes unsaid as he literally fucks the words out of her, the base of him finally nestled against her entrance. The cry that escapes her is nothing short of pornographic, and yet, it’s the most honest sound in the world. At this angle, she always feels so full, but taking him like this, with his cock as the first thing to breach her today, is so much more than she’s ever felt. 

“Daddy, oh my god, it’s so big, so good, I—Daddy, ‘m so _full,”_ she declares, voice foreign to her own ears.

And then he starts to move, and she is instantly on the precipice of orgasm.

“You’re taking it so well, sweetheart. Daddy’s good girl, so fucking _wet, Christ—”_

He’s pistoning his hips slowly to start, alternating with grinding motions that make her see stars. The noises coming from her cunt are _obscene._

He seems to realize her breasts are still bare, and leans down to suck one back into his mouth as she whines and cries and keens and almost forgets her audience.

A quick peek confirms his continued presence before she buries her face back into Ben’s neck, little puffs air caressing the skin of his throat as she edges closer and closer to release.

“Please, Daddy, I’m so close—”

“Rub that pretty little clit for me.” His voice takes on the gravelly tone that makes her clench every single fucking time. “Can you do that? Make yourself come on Daddy’s cock like a good girl?”

Yes, she can do that.

She’s slippery with it, with the ages of teasing and buildup and hands on skin and quiet reprimands. Her fingers move quickly, ability to speak lost in the haze of almost release, and then—

“Do you like it, sweetheart? Do you like being watched?”

_Ah._

Of course, of _course_ he knows. She was a fool to think she could hide it, and even more of a fool to think he would _want_ her to hide.

Even so, the question feels like a trap, and all she can do is whimper, continue to hide her face in the crook of his neck and make desperate little circles with her hips and fingers.

But he won’t let her off that easy.

His hand grabs the back of her neck, pulls her ear to the softness of his lips as he whispers a secret, half part of the game, half reassuring.

“You can tell me, it’s okay. Daddy loves you so much,” and then, with slightly more bite. “Don’t lie to me.”

She whines at that, a drawn out, needy, embarrassed _yes._

“Yes, what?” He growls.

“Yes, Daddy, she gasps, honesty freeing. “Yes, I like when he watches.” Maybe the specificity wasn’t necessary, but it’s the truth. It’s not just the _being watched_ that does it; it’s the specific audience.

The audience that, as she peers over Ben’s shoulder, is still slowly stroking the bulge in his shorts.

“Thank you, sweetheart,” he croons in her ear. “Daddy’s proud of you.” 

He shows her just how proud with a vicious snap of his hips that shocks her into orgasm, white-hot and blinding as she uses her last ounce of brainpower to continue making circles around her clit, drawing out the pleasure until her thighs are trembling so hard that she collapses against him, letting him fuck her through the aftershocks.

He’s still hard.

“More, sweetheart?”

She mouths at his neck, his collarbone, his chest, somehow both sated and hungry.

“Yes, Daddy.”

“Fuck, yes, that’s my good girl,” he croons like the sweetest song into her ear, taking over all the movement with his hands and hips. All she has to do is rest her exposed chest against his and smile. Her head is too heavy to look over his shoulder, but the knowing is enough.

He builds her to another peak so steadily that it sneaks up on her, a testament to his encyclopedic knowledge of her body.

He’s mostly murmuring nonsense that she lets wash over her like a soothing balm, even as heat continues to collect again beneath her skin.

But then—

“So fucking good for Daddy, aren’t you? I’m gonna fucking _marry_ you, you’re so good, isn’t that right?” He pulls her left hand off of his chest and brings it to his mouth, presses a soft kiss to her ring finger, just above the glittering diamond, tenderness at odds with the frantic pace of his hips. “You’re going to be all mine, sweetheart.”

And then he lets go of her hand and reaches between them, carefully positions the smallest scrap of fabric between her clit and his thumb, rubbing frantic circles as they both edge toward release but careful to keep the barrier between his sunscreen soaked digit and her sensitive nub.

She’s so close, it’s almost unbearable, if he could just—

“Pretty soon, you’ll have our last name.”

_Our._

She comes, and she refuses to feel bad about it. She knows how carefully her Daddy chooses his words. There’s no hiding her reaction, and the clench of her cunt around him sends him careening into his own release, filling her with proof of devotion.

The chirping of birds intertwine with their panting breaths, the intensity of their shared high nearly unbearable. She’s vaguely aware of him wrapping her body in his arms, settling her against the lounge chair with her head propped up on her towel. She closes her eyes behind her sunglasses and whimpers as he withdraws from her heat at a snails’ pace, then quickly rights her bikini bottoms and traps his cum against her cunt.

_Well, they were ruined already anyway._

Finally, he scoops her breasts back into the meager cups of her top, and she hears him tuck his cock back into his shorts.

And finally, he presses a kiss to her lips, pillowy soft and sweet.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

She opens her eyes at the endearment, refusing to miss the sappy look he gets post-orgasm.

“I love you too, Daddy.”

His irises shine in the sun, bright enough to see through her sunglasses, almost as bright as the reflection of her ring on the pool’s surface, and she is incandescently happy.

And then, a throat clears from far away and their necks both snap in the direction of the noise.

Han is there, holding a spatula and a tray of burgers, an easy smile on his face.

“Thought you kids might be hungry, working up an appetite and all.”

The barb has his trademark teasing tone, but Rey notes with a flush that the shorts he dons are most definitely a different pair from the ones he was wearing earlier.

A sharp burst of lust makes its way through her afterglow thinking of what might’ve happened that required him to change.

“Come help me light the grill, son.”

Ben huffs, drops a short but sweet kiss to her forehead, and saunters away, Solo boy bickering starting up almost immediately. Their voices wash over her, warm and comforting.

And as she carefully skates her hand down her stomach, Rey wonders if she’d rather be caught by one of them, or both.

_Only one way to find out…_

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I’m not sure if I will ever return to this ‘verse, but if you have ideas for future additions, please feel free to leave them in the comments below. You never know when inspiration will strike...
> 
> Always down to chat on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/beccastanz)!


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